Chapter 19

You, Me; Here

Brewer’s Reputation: 2,777.

Dream Cutter Stone Shard Quest: 13,300/15,000 shards.

We left the meadow and stayed on the trail that stretched northward. We came upon a pool of water in a bowl of sunken earth. Using Brewer’s Bubble, we drained the water and cast it aside. By late afternoon, Abigail halted and pointed at the canopy.

The tree tops swayed with soft hushing. Late golden light dappled the leaves. Small vistas opened up between a maple and an oak. In the distance, towering above the forest, was a tree. One of the trees affected by the Aggravated Wild Growth attribute ales we left to percolate in the wilderness.

“Can you imagine,” Abigail whispered.

“Hm?”

She held an imaginary thimble between her thumb and forefinger. “From a seed this big.”

The oak was so tall, I mused that it could pose a danger to wandering clouds. It was so tall that it could slice storms in two halves. So tall, that the leaves might brush against the atmosphere and burn. If I ever spent a month felling it, I would have eternal wood for my stove.

We moved on, laughing back and forth as the trail blended from a managed path, to wild growth. Faint desire paths of animals intersected each other every now and then. We picked a careful path over upheaved birch roots. Clusters of briar forced us around. The wilderness got darker and darker until we stopped to camp for another night beneath Abigail’s sheltering attributes. No fire. Just a cold camp.

On towards the towering oak. We arrived by late afternoon. In the woods, I spotted chimeric colors reflecting on the trees. Giant ferns blocked our path. We hacked our way through with axe and daggers. The barrel of Aggravated Wild Growth lay atop a bed of flattened ferns where huge roots hugged the staves. Beer dripped from the spout. Behind it, the colossal oak towered so high that we had to bend backwards to see the top. Branches the size of Barnacle-eyes’ ketch bowed out from the trunk at every hundred feet. The occasional leaf and twig drifted down.

Abigail was suddenly close by. She picked a fallen leaf from my hair, tossed it aside, and ambled toward the tree.

A person could slip into the cracks of the bark. The spaces between were as wide as open wardrobes. Scaling the giant would be akin to taking the stairs of a ruined temple.

“Catch,” Abigail said.

I caught an open bottle of beer. White foam and White beer flowed from the top. Abigail leapt into the sky. I sipped the Anti-gravity attribute ale and leapt behind her.

Her hair moved like a cape wrenched by wind. Her clothes fluttered. I squinted against the wind. The higher we went, the colder it got. I withdrew a bottle of warm-warm beer, took a sip, and tossed the bottle to Abigail.

The tree was a blur beside us. Branches whooshed by. Birds scattered in surprise in an explosion of leaves. The sea reflected dusk in the distance. The orange of the setting sun painted Abigail’s clothes and skin. I followed the souls of her boots.

At last we stopped at a high branch. Below, the goblin freebooters sloops looked like ants at a thin line of purple mist. The sea seemed endless. Several other trees towered in pockets of wilderness. There was a cluster of aspen by the valley. Wych elms hunkered like bushy giants.

Abigail slung arcs of Honey Cocoon attribute beer onto the tree. She slung libations out into the wind as she ran the length of the branch. The beer became a spray and flew out far and wide.

We sat at the base of the tree with the setting sun in our face. The wilderness below was already shadowed by the horizon.

“It’s like a blanket,” Abigail said. “The sun.”

That was true. It was golden orange and lay upon us, thick as a blanket. Its reflection was a thousand miles long on the sea. And it was quickly shrinking. The sky darkened. The sun grasped the edge of the world with a single finger, then descended. Twilight revealed the stars, but we seemed no closer.

“Could we camp here?” Abigail said.

“Might roll off.”

“I have sheltering attributes to keep us safe.”

“I can’ remember the last time I slept in a tree.”

“Let’s do it. Let’s cold camp here.”

Abigail poured libations of sheltering attribute beers to protect us from the elements, to soften the ground, and to contain us. I broke open some cold baked sweet potatoes, salted fish, and dried tomatoes.

“When will the firefly cocoons open?” I said.

“In a few months.”

“Where will they go?”

She shrugged.

“Do you think we’ll ever see Thrush again?” I said.

“What do you mean? Of course we will. What makes you say that?”

“I tried to summon him the other day. Just to talk. He didn’t respond.”

“He must be busy.”

“When we first became friends, we left it unspoken that Thrush may one day leave. And that would be that.”

“Are you worried about him? A nightream?”

“I am.”

“Hawkin, he’s a nightream. He’s the most powerful…creature…fathomable.”

“But he hasn’t been eating lately.”

“I understand your worry. I know less about Thrush than perhaps you do, but let me say this; Thrush is fond of you. He considers you a friend. And I’m sure he can survive anything and everything. Just give him time. Perhaps he's going through something. What you can do is be there for him if he needs you.”

“It’s so strange,” I said. “Losing Barnacle-eyes; Boggo, even. It feels like I’ve lost Thrush too.”

“You haven’t lost anyone. You’ll see them again.” She took my hand. “We’ll see them again.”

“It’s strange. I came here for the isolation. I’m happy to return to it, but I can’t help but feel…I don’t know—hurt? Like I’m hurting.”

“Have you ever had friends before?”

“I was a friend to others when I was a child. But after getting to know Barnacle-eyes and Thrush…and you…It’s painfully clear now that children never returned my friendship. I always gave and gave and gave. They took and took and took. I never figured that out. Never solved that.”

“Don’t solve it,” she said. “Who says you have to solve it?”

“Sometimes I’m a pushover. My experience with the goblins certainly proved that. That’s my flaw.”

“Embrace who you are at your core, Hawkin. And if giving and being a pushover is a part of your character, then just embrace it. I find it endearing and I would never call it a flaw. You don’t have to overcome some adversity of character to live a fulfilling life. Protect it instead.”

“I wish this could be a golden chapter beer. Right now. You, me; here.”